Space Cowboy
by ArchReaven
Summary: An Exo guardian, with a long, troubled past and a voicebox geared for country music, works in secret behind the lines of the Darkness, though with a strange twist. As the Darkness learns of the deeds of particular guardians, bounties rise, and sometimes, the only way out is to fake your death. (SOME SPOILERS IN REVIEW SECTION.)
1. Prologue

Prologue – An Awakening

Some of them will say that I should have stayed dead. Others will rejoice than I never perished. The opinions of others don't really matter, in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that does matter is your choices, and how you let others influence them.

There's a lot of time to think when lying in a casket. Life, death, the rise of civilizations and their downfalls, and everything in between. Before I became what I am now, a guardian of the last civilization of its kind, I never truly believed things had a soul. "A soul is a creation of the mind, in order to explain what happens after death, to cope with the trouble of imagining a reality where we don't exist," I thought. "We're nothing but machines, working tirelessly to whatever ends suit us or those who command us, only too ignorant to accept the harsh reality: nothing happens to us after death, because we aren't around anymore." My time with the Traveler taught me differently.

Unlike what many people are told through the various medias in the City, guardians can die. They do, and I've watched too many fall to be shocked. It's an eventuality. Thus, many guardians, the more troublesome ones particularly, are put on hit lists by the minions of the darkness. A chance encounter with a wandering pack of Fallen can escalate into a full on brawl with a walker. Nothing is impossible if they want you dead badly enough. Luckily, however, they tend to stop chasing you once you're dead. Such is the policy of my particular agency.

My most recent death, I believe I was run down by a pack of roving Pikes, particularly nasty. Funny thing about the Exo is, we can take a beating, even more so when you're not actually inside the soon-to-be corpse. Still though, once they stitch you back together you've got to go into the ground. Amazing that the City still retains burials and their ceremony.

And so, that is how I attended my own funeral – not for the first time, mind you – and looked out onto the eyes of my once-friends, my fire-team members, and even my own Ghost, from behind dead sensors as they lowered me into the ground. Far from the City, far from hostile activity, simply, peace. And I lay there for at least a year, waiting until it was deemed safe for me to return back to duty.

 _Writer's Note: I'm just trying to get back into the swing of writing, so forgive me if anything sounds rusty or forced. It'll probably get better. This is really just a trial run to see if anyone's interested._


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One – Arisen

Sensors clicked on. Motors whirred, testing their effectiveness after many months. A radio signal, two klicks out. Ghost incoming.

My coffin was made of some sort of high-durability plastic composite. It cracked, then broke, easily from the force of my fist against it. That was the nice thing about essentially being a machine: no pain, all gain.

For the first time in months, I reached my hand up, through the Russian soil, into a night sky. My body followed with it, and I stood among shin-high grasses on a windy plain. Though some may say the Exo cannot feel, I was never freer than when I stood there, in that moment, and I swore I could feel the life in every living thing around me. My Ghost arrived next to me, though its telltale light could be seen from a great distance. It danced around me, apparently taking diagnostics of my form.

"To hell with it," I grumbled, "I'm fine, Ghost."

"You seem awfully unconcerned with the work I'm doing for someone whose life depends on it."

"I've lived many lives, and none of them have been ended by a faulty joint. Hurry it up."

He continued floating about, conducting whatever diagnostics he does, while I took a good look at myself. The armor I was buried in, Iron Banner livery, as I was one of the champions of the games, lost its shine once I crawled out of a casket in it. The weapon, a scout rifle of the same make, would still be in fine working condition, though as a "newly reborn" guardian, it would likely end up incinerated with the rest of this gear.

"Very well then. You seem fine in all aspects except attitude. I'll start to scrounge up some makeshift armor."

"You've got a lot to be cheery about, you glorified PDA. I've been dead for months, and they can't even spare me a weapon."

"You've got a knife, and you're good with it, so quit your bitching. Nothing should come by out here except another guardian on a scouting mission from his or her Vanguard mentor. They'll take us back to the tower and we can resume the good fight. Now, put these on, and pretend you're lubricated behind the audio receptors."

 _Author's Note: It's late and I'm just trying to get enough out there so that people who may be interested get enough of a taste to stick around. More will be coming soon, but it's all got to be set up before we can get to the good parts. Believe me, as a writer, I hate having to set things up even more that you hate having to read it._


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two – Back in the Saddle

My make-shift emergency beacon, crafted from whatever scrap my Ghost found, clicked on with a satisfying noise and began to beep intermittently, to alert any incoming guardians of a "recently arisen" comrade. I took a seat on a stone, weather beaten and worn, laid back and rested until I was drowned in the light of a ship, something cobbled together by the City's technicians. The outer loudspeaker cracked on.

"Who are you?" the speaker droned, broadcasting static as loud as the actual message. The voice was male, and smooth, likely an Awoken. It was funny that an Awoken would be the one to bring me back to civilization, when their Queen's Fallen were the ones that put me in the ground.

"According to this…Ghost," I spoke feigning confusion, as if the words were foreign, "I've been dead for a few hundred years, so maybe you'd be able to tell better than I can."

"I should leave you here, but new guardians apparently count as important cargo. We're going to bring you back to the City. Cayde will give you the history lesson. System, bring him aboard."

A shimmering light surrounded me, my ghost, and the rock I had been sitting on, but only the former two were brought inside the ship. I almost felt depressed at the loss of my throne. It was fairly comfortable, as far as rocks go.

My "rescuer", an Awoken Titan, rotated around in his seat, and faced me along with his Ghost. His expression read that he was not pleased at his expedition being cut short, but almost relieved that he had finally found something. The Ghost, apparently named "System" was unreadable, as most of their kind are.

"Well," the Titan spoke, this time uncorrupted by the loudspeaker's moans, "you look like shit."

"Seeing as I've been dead for at least a century, I wouldn't expect to be in perfect condition. I don't know that anyone ever is. You'd think all that beauty sleep would have done well for my complexion."

"Sit the hell down, I don't have time for jokes. We've got a long trip back to the City."

"Those two things are mutually exclusive. Would you like a song? I've got an internal jukebox."

"Do you have a mute button too? No? I didn't expect much, coming from a resurrected space cowboy."

"My drawl is programmed, nothing I can do about it. Most voice command systems can't even recognize my input half the time. You can deal with having a southerner robot in your backseat for a couple of hours, can't you?"

"What do you mean, 'southerner'? The only thing south of here is more wasteland."

"Forget it."

Seeing as I was "revived" just as the evening set in, we arrived at the City, the Tower specifically, in the middle of the night. My "rescuer" dropped my Ghost and myself on the balcony platform, and began to rise again to return to the frontier. The loudspeaker cracked to life one last time.

"Don't be a stranger."

He flew off.

Cayde-6 was the hunter Vanguard mentor at the time. My work led to a longstanding friendship despite the air of professionalism we had to maintain, and seeing as we were both Exo, and thus didn't require sleep, late night callings we not unusual. He strolled out of a side door in the Tower complex, probably a portal to the finer apartments available in the structure, seeing as he was both a constant presence and an important one. We walked together to an edge of the balcony, off to the side of the main platform; even though the tower was unusually quiet at the moment, save for the hum of supply barge engines, delivering supplies to be distributed throughout the Tower. Some people whispered that those ships came back from the frontier more often than guardians did. Some spoke that the guardians were indeed important cargo, but when it came to the barges, those guardians usually weren't vertical.

"I would say that I'm glad to see you alive, but I guess I'll just apologize for your loss. I don't really know which is more applicable at this point," Cayde spoke. "When will you be ready to get back out there?"

"Shame on you, Cayde. I rise from the dead, and you can't even give the pleasure of a beer. Look at me. I need to get fresh coolant, and this cloak just won't do, will it? Is Eva awake? I'd just love to see what shaders she's got now. You think she's got a new shipment anytime since I died?"

"One of these days, your sense of humor is going to get you killed. Though, I guess with your record, I could throw you from this balcony and you'd hit the ground laughing, as alive as ever. Your Ghost sent word ahead that you'd be coming, so I've got this for you." Cayde handed me a bundle of fabric. "High durability weave, encoded to camouflage along with armor we've got custom built for you, but that can all wait until tomorrow. How does it suit you?"

I unfolded the cloth. It flowed outward, smooth in the night wind. There was indeed a pattern etched in the fibers, a vertical blade emblazoned on an elongated spade. The blade was nothing like the hand-make, custom knives used by most hunters, this one was clearly forged.

"It was found during a raid on some military installation from way back, at least a few centuries ago. Torn from a banner. From what else we found in the area, it reminded me of you. This was with it."

Cayde handed me a knife exactly like the one pictured on the cloak.

"Sorry to tell you, but your last personality's knife became something of a symbol against the darkness. We can't have anyone or anything recognizing it."

He held out his hand, and I hesitated placing my one memento in it.

"We can't risk anything, Wyatt. You know that."

He took the old weapon from me, and placed in some pocket or another.

"I'll try and make it worth your while. In the meantime, you have this, and a new assignment. The Vanguard quartermaster can hook you up with your weapons, and you can ship out next morning after the gunsmith finishes with your armor. He's actually pretty good with anything mechanical, though his name says otherwise. Make sure you're ready in the morning. You aren't going to get to ease into it this time around."

 _Author's Note: I managed to write a bit more this time around, but I wouldn't expect chapters to get much longer than a thousand words. Also, I find it helps if you read Wyatt's lines in the voice of the Sink Auto-Doc from Fallout: NV, or even the Gunsmith's if you haven't played Fallout._


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three – Riding Again

I "awoke" in the temporary quarters of the Tower, of the many subsections hidden behind the concrete wall that composes the main façade of the structure. While the exterior of the Tower is meant to display beauty and prominence, to inspire hope among the populace, the interior sections, aside from the main three wings, were extremely utilitarian, though kept clean considering the occupation of its inhabitants.

I stood up and flexed my joints, testing them again for any signs of deterioration. While usually after my revivals I would go on a simple mission to stress test my corpse and see if anything needed replacement, but Cayde had said that I wouldn't be easing into anything this time around. Taking another look around the quarters I had chosen for my own, I saw that a few more bunks were occupied than when I had shut down, in fact, the dorm was packed, and one particularly unlucky warlock seemed to have fallen asleep lying against the wall. I counted 12 occupied bunks and the aforementioned warlock.

The last night, being an Exo and not wanting to take up a bunk that I didn't need, I fell asleep simply leaning against the wall, my hood pulled low over my eyes. It would likely have been a startling sight, seeing a body, having been completely stationary the whole night, blink to life and begin walking around. That is, if anyone was awake.

I walked out of the dorm door, and though it was still dark outside, the moonlight flare sparked my sensors, and I raised my hand to block the light while I looked around the scene. Five-thirty in the morning and guardians were still coming and going about the tower. I gave a silent thanks to whoever engineered the soundproofing of the Tower's dorms. That said, the night was nonetheless mesmerizing. The lights strewn about were dimmed and though the City itself was enormous (and thus the quantity of other lighting), the stars scattered through the night sky were nearly as visible as they were when I crawled from the dirt less than a day ago.

Walking over to Banshee, he gave a silent nod and led me into a side room, his workshop. The door hissed open silently, but gave way to the stench of gun oil and powder. Several tables lay about the room (which was roughly the size of the dorm), and on all of which were disassembled firearms neatly organized, while racks adorning the walls held even more weapons. The room was remarkable clean, a testament to the Tower's automated maintenance services. Banshee, though, led me through a curtain to a smaller, side room which held only a single table, and was heavily illuminated. On it lay the armor that would accompany me until I went to the grave.

The greaves were actually somewhat baggy leg pieces with more heavily armored shin and boot pieces as well as jointed plate along the left leg, with a small soft case on the left hip. Mag-lock attachment points along the belt section solidified the feel of the armor. Utilitarian, not showy.

"I don't know what all Cayde told you about my work, but it is all reworking of some of the pre-Collapse tech we found at that installation. Should be a little bit more protective than most of what you'll find out there. Fit the belt with whatever gear you need."

"I'm having a moment, Banshee, forgive me if I don't stoop to worship at your altar."

The gauntlet pieces were just as unadorned. Smooth, dark gray fabric undoubtedly concealed high-durability subsystems. High-friction gauntlets served for an unshakable grip on a weapon, or a cliff face. Just as with the greaves, the left arm was more heavily armored, with a heavy-duty tactical interface on the left wrist for manual interface with systems, both friendly and alien. A small sensor sat just behind the left shoulder, which was very heavily armored compared to the rest of the suit.

"What you haven't seen is the micro-maglock system in the palm of each glove. Honestly, you could hold up a walker over a ledge if it wouldn't pull you down with it."

"Is your ego programmed or has it manifested over the years?"

"I think I should leave you two alone for now," Banshee said as he drew back the curtain to depart.

"I'm an old-timer, Banshee, you have to explain all the bells and whistles to me."

Banshee grumbled under his robotic breath as I looked over the chest piece. While the gauntlets are greaves were purely utilitarian, it seems Banshee had his way with this particular piece. It almost looked as if a pre-Golden Age military vest had been mounted over the top of the piece, like a harness. Ammunition pockets had been placed in several places, save for the left side of the chest, where a sheath for a knife not unlike the one I recently acquired hung, placed so that blade would point over shoulder, and the handle would lie just above my heart, if I had one. Despite all the capacity, the vest looked remarkably slim, such that even fully loaded and geared it would still allow full range of motion.

"Wow, you must really like me, Banshee."

"Keep it our little secret," he said, chuckling.

The last piece, the helm, felt sturdy in my hands, but still light. The piece was not so different from some of the others available in the tower, at least in appearance, but the feel of the helmet was unlike any other. It was a design with a reflective visor and attached piece to function as both a component of the display and as a backup viewport in case the visor were to crack. Simple enough, and common. But something about it felt…different.

"One more thing. When they were raiding the complex, they found this. It's a very old design, and needed a lot of fixing and new parts before we could get it firing, but damnit, they don't call it the Golden Age for no reason. One of the most beautiful rifles I've ever seen."

Banshee punched a code into a keypad that lay near the curtained doorway, and a section of the wall slid open to reveal…a battle scarred sniper rifle. Whereas all the armor Banshee had put on display was unadorned, yet still beautiful in its own right, this weapon was…simple.

"Don't even start with me, Wyatt. Take the rifle. Put on your gear. Go to the quartermaster. Take whatever you need. Then get the hell out there. Give it a test run before you say anything."

* * *

Ghost pulled me out of the ship, a gift from the Tower, and set me down on the soil of the Cosmodrome. A harsh wind blew ragged weeds across the crooks and crannies of the plateau. I stepped over to the edge of a cliff, looking down into the valley at a crashed airliner and a Fallen scavenging team, my every step audible in the crunch of the grass below my boots.

Once more the wind howled, and something in the distance echoed it. A few of those below me arched their heads to hear, but soon returned to the artifacts around them. My first real time back on the frontier, I took some time to survey the nature around me. It was probably very different the last time I was here, and the next time I come, it'll probably have changed again.

A colony ship broke the horizon line in the distance some fifty miles away, a relic of the Golden Age, still standing, testament to the engineers of their time, and the explorers, the pathfinders. Those not unlike myself.

The rifle hung heavy in my hands as I pulled it free from its sling. Its weight felt comfortable in my hands, a stark contrast to the lightweight rifles commonly chosen by other guardians. The stock pressed firmly against my shoulder, fitting right into the gap between the cuirass and armor. I took aim on a Fallen Captain who seemed to be leading the operation.

The Captain took a wide stance on a small ledge overlooking the crashed airliner as he barked orders to the crew below him. His twin blades swung eagerly in the wind as it howled through the valley.

I took a deep breath in. Then out. My finger tightened on the trigger.

* * *

Far away, a fire team of guardians stood silently in a small building in the shadow of a colony ship. The titan readied a machine gun and motioned to the others. The target of their assignment was so close now. A devil walker, hunched motionless, surveyed the area, searching for threats to the high servitor that lay deeper in the facility. The team readied to move, hoping to be able to blitz their way through before the alarm could be raised by any of the fallen nearby.

Like thunder, a deep hollow sound cracked through the early morning sky. The hunter, unfazed continued looking out at the crowd of Fallen and their walker, who like his comrades, searched eagerly for the source of the sound (though only after assuring themselves that they had not gained a new orifice). Soon though, the group settled once again, and the fire team prepared to move.

* * *

I was deafened. After my sensors compensated for the sound, I looked again through the scope just in time to watched the Captain, having frozen in place, crumpled and tumbled from his perch. None of the Fallen moved. Until, of course, lightning struck again.

 _Author's Note: I wanted to finally get away from all the setup and launch into some action. While it's just a tidbit, I want to also give people a taste of what I hope to make the entire series like: heavily detailed. Not every combat seen will be intense, with nonstop action. While some pieces may be like that, I feel like those scenes are very difficult to make as descriptive as everything else. As always, any input will be appreciated, so long as it is in an attempt to help me improve. If you have ideas for the future, I'd love to hear those two, but send it in a message rather than a review. Thanks!_


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four – Pine Box Blues

The comm-set in my helm scratched to life, and I grabbed for my hand cannon instinctively before I realized. Something about being put in the ground more than once left you with nerves more wired than most guardians, even the ones who had seen the darkest pits of the Hive, or the other side of those Vex timegates.

"Wyatt, do you read? We've got another job for you," Cayde's voice echoed through the device.

I spun around my chair bolted to the floor of the cabin. As I rose, the grinding metal croaked, and the floor responded with its own creaks, echoing throughout the dusty airliner. A dreg's corpse thudded to the floor from leaning against the back of the plane seat where it had settled not half an hour ago, a .45-70 Gov't slug having created a not-insignificant hole through its chest. Though those particular rounds were somewhat rare in the early days of the City, reverse-engineering combined with the need for more powerful ammunitions quickly increased the available stockpile.

Though the sun was higher in the sky now, it was still early, and the sun barely made a dent in the fog. The wind, too, had settled down and was now relegated to only gently swaying the weeds that had spread exponentially across the cosmodrome's prairies, and the occasional groan of the ruins now surrounding me. Though I had heard some scattered gunfire fifteen to twenty minutes ago, that too had faded.

"Yeah, Cayde, I'm here."

"Great. I was worried that piece-of-junk rifle had misfired and gotten you killed."

I thought back to the sound the beast had made when I first pulled that trigger, how the wind seemed to howl with the blast, how that Captain stood there, as if nothing had happened. I remembered when I found a piece of its helm, right next to the body. I also remembered the piece I found some fifty meters away.

"You know, Cayde, having fired it, it's not so bad. I think it'll work."

"Yeah, ok. Anyway, we've got another target. This one's…special. It seems to be a special kind of walker."

"I'm listening," I rasped.

"If you've ever got close enough to one of them, you might know that they seem to be controlled by some kind of artificial intelligence, or a drone, like those shanks. This one isn't. Oversized, with a heavily armored command cabin. Probably a dreg inside piloting it, but even that one might still be dangerous. I've sent the last known location to your ghost, circa a few hours ago."

"How'd you get this location?"

"An experienced guardian's ship cut comms around the area. It was found a few miles away, ship's computer probably coasted it to the surface. There was a suspiciously large hole through the main body. That, combined with other reports of a walker conducting surface-to-air operations and demonstrating a large degree of intelligence, leads us to believe that this monster is real."

"I'm on it. Any other advice?"

"You'll be grounded the whole way. No chances."

"No problem. I've always like the scenery here. I think I might have been built in the wrong generation."

"Start walking."

The walk was not a short one, but each second, minute, and hour ceased to register in my head as I traveled. If the Exo could indeed zone out of reality, then I had done it. I strode past leafless trees and Golden Age-ruins alike, my mind focused on my goal. By mid-afternoon, the terrain changed from bare plains to an urban sprawl, and as I walked through the wreckage of a thriving community, I could swear that I hear the cries of Fallen scouts, but when I turned to look, I saw nothing. The road I walked, apparently built to allow large amounts of traffic, was nearly empty. Reasonable, considering the pileup outside the gates of the cosmodrome.

The road started up a gentle slope, and as I walked it, I could see better the ruins of the structures around me. Apartments, business places, all were ravaged alike. Carved into pieces. Then, a shadow arose from beyond the crest of the road, and another, much larger structure appeared to part the road around it. As I walked, its purpose became clear. It was a coliseum of some sort, and though it was likely intended for sports of the more civilized sport, my arrival would likely cause a revival of the Roman classic.

The structure, though showing its age as I moved closer to it, seemed to be in better physical shape than its surroundings. Deep inside, I thought I heard echoes of movement, but it stopped as I moved inside through what appeared to be a maintenance door.

The building was in a clear state of disrepair, judging be both appearance and the smell of what appeared to be busted water pipes. My visor clicked into low-light vision with a thought, and the darkness gave way to my sight. As I moved through the back rooms and corridors, more skittering could be heard echoing through the innards of the foundation. Several times, I could have sworn I'd seen eyes peering at me through the darkness, but when they did not yield before the barrel of my cannon, I realized that it was nothing but indicator lights of some sort.

A harsh screech through the hallways stopped me in my tracks. The stadium was clearly inhabited by some amount of Fallen, and according to the data from Cayde, the walker. My weapon now eternally pointed ahead through the now-permeable darkness, I continued to work my way upward through one passageway after another. The next staircase seemed to lead up to a commercial level through a side door. Cracking it open slightly, I could see what appeared to be merchant stands and a large amount of lighting.

From just on the other side of the door, a glass bottle broke, and I withdrew quickly a small distance back before the door. Looking out again, I could see a patrol pass by, what appeared to be a vandal leading three dregs. The vandal was leading from the rear, forcing the dregs to do the brunt of inspecting the surroundings.

I put my hand to the small of my back, and yes, I had remembered a sidearm. This one, City-made for either desperate situations or stealth, came with an integrated suppressor. I slipped outside the door and readied my knife. The patrol had moved ahead some 10 feet now. Creeping up as silently as possible behind the vandal, I moved within two feet, and struck.

My knife slid into the small space between the collarbone and neck, and I twisted to ensure that the vandal would not be returning to combat. Its weapon clattered to the floor just as I removed the knife and looped my arm around its neck to hold it as a not-quite-human shield against the dregs now turning to see what was quite likely something of their nightmares. My sidearm's barrel lit up with six flashes. One dreg took three to the chest, one lost its head, and no one outside of 15 meters would hear anything outside of the ordinary.

I continued climbing up the interior of the stadium to reach the very top. I emerged on a sort of walkway that spanned the entire circumference of the stadium and sat a few meters below the rim. Luckily, the walkway also featured a solid concrete flooring and barrier between it and the rest of the audience seating, but from there, I could see the walker, situated squarely in the middle of the field that made up the epicenter of the stadium.

The field was populated with several Fallen who seemed to be directed about by a Captain. It appeared that this walker required manual loading of at least the largest ammunitions, though it probably had an interior supply of some of the lower-powered shells. Unfortunately, the Fallen were intelligent enough at least to store their explosives inside the stadium where It would be very difficult to detonate.

The walker itself was massive, at least another half bigger than the ones more commonly seen. Thick, armored legs connected to a heavy body that appeared to have been modified from the chassis that normally contained shanks and shock grenades to one that fully contained its gun carriage. It appeared to be able to angle the cannon to be nearly vertical, and the entire assembly sat low to the ground. The "head" of the vehicle was indeed heavily armored, but an idea occurred to me. I opened a comm line to the tower while I examined the compass in my HUD.

"Give me Cayde."

"Error 306: Improper Authorization Codes Provided," a digital voice answer, likely some frame or another.

"I don't give a damn about your fucking protocol, what I care about is saving lives, so you get Cayde on the comms right goddamn now."

"System Override Accepted: Welcome, Operative 17. Transferring to Cayde-6."

The system crackled before the line opened again.

"What do you need, Wyatt?"

"I need you to send a drone flight over my location from the south. It'll probably be shot down. Just trust me."

"It had better be worth it. It'll be overhead in three minutes, assuming it makes it overhead."

"Thanks, Cayde. You know I'll do my damnedest."

I set up my rifle on the concrete barricade just in time to watch the Captain begin to bark at its crew, and four dregs ran into an opening in the side walls of the field, probably to fetch another round, though it seemed unlikely that the walker didn't already have one loaded. In addition, the walker began to rotate. One leg at a time, deep thuds echoed throughout the very concrete of the structure. Each movement shook my aim, but I held as true as I could. Finally the movements stopped, as the cannon on the walker's back began to rise, the "head" facing directly away from me.

I could hear a distant whistling of aircraft engines as the dregs staggered out of the side hall carrying what appeared to be a large artillery shell, though the fallen typically used projected energy in their weapons, even those on the walker. The dregs moved to about twenty meters from the walker and stopped. The engines continued to increase in volume. All movement on the field stopped. Then, suddenly, the cannon fired. The impact of the sound on my body, up on the top rim of the stadium, seemed to be as fearsome as if I had been hit directly, though after my experience with my rifle, I pre-emptively adjusted my helm to deafen the sound. The ship did indeed fly overhead on schedule, though Cayde failed to mention that it would be in several pieces.

Finally, as the dregs moved toward the walker to load another round, I took aim. A small receptacle opened on the side of the walker, near the cabin, to accept the round. The crew stopped to load it in, and I almost hesitated as a screech from the captain alerted all of the Fallen to my location, but I pulled hard and sharp on the trigger. My shot flew straight and true, and struck the head of the shell as I prayed hard that it was explosive.

The next thing I knew, I was lying against the concrete wall behind the barrier. I stood quickly, and looked down at the scene. The walker was smoldering. The shell had blown that front quarter of the vehicle open, and charred everything within fifty meters of the blast. Needless to say, those dregs were gone. I looked over to where the Captain had been standing, and I saw it struggling to crawl out from under a piece of walker. I fired again to put him out of his misery.

It was a short walk down to the field now that I needn't be concerned with resistance, as the flurry of explosions had likely caused anyone of the Fallen that remained to scurry. Taking in the entire scene with my helms, recorder, I took particular notice of the walker. The City would want to know how the Fallen chose to transition to a solid ammunition and how they modified a walker to accept it.

I had almost made it into the side doorway from which those dregs had produced a round when metal screeched and I heard a feral cry come from the walker's corpse. I drew my hand cannon and pointed it at the cockpit. Surely, nothing could have survived that.

I could do nothing but stand in awe as an armored figure shambled from out of the head of the walker. Standing at least as tall as a captain, its entire form was clad in what was likely the same shimmering metal that covered their servitors, but the figure's entire left side was scorched. The armor nearly didn't save its operator, as even from this distance I could clearly see its visor has been broken out on the scorched side, and its eye appeared to be blinded.

With another cry, the armored Fallen produced a shrapnel cannon, and unfortunately, its shielding crackled to life. I was so stunned by its survival that had I not ducked back into the doorway, I too might have lost an eye.

 _Author's Note: Hopefully this chapter will have helped to satisfy your needs for combat. I'm a little worried that this chapter isn't living up to the quality of the others, so as always, please give me any feedback you have. In addition, if you have any ideas about where the story should go, feel free to PM me about them. Thanks!_


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five – This Town Ain't Big Enough

Every motion made by the Fallen was robotic, mechanical, accompanied by the hiss of machinery, quite unlike anything previously seen used by the Fallen. Even as it raised the shrapnel cannon to its shoulder, the servos in its arm whirring and a distinct "click" as it set into the shoulder. Even the weapon firing sounded much more solemn than other weapons, as if every component of the weapon knew its purpose: death. The machine continued its stomp across the field, firing every step, with the flaming shadow of the artillery walker casting a grave backdrop.

Scatters of shrapnel continued to burrow their way into the walls surrounding the tunnel I had taken refuge in, whatever occupied that machine still marched onward toward me, but I had taken the hint long before it had gotten close, and moved further through the passage until I reached what appeared to be where the Fallen had been storing their ammunition. Likely some sort of common area, it was flanked by locker areas, with doors to showers and even what appeared to be some sort of administration section. All of the free-standing lockers (that is, the ones that weren't set against the walls) seemed to have been torn out and replaced with shelves, racks that held shells. Only a few racks had spots open. At least the walker hadn't been able to expend much of its reserves.

Moving off to the side in between the wall lockers and a row of ammo shelves, I took a chance to examine the racks and shells themselves. They were mostly unmarked, but on one rack, a symbol was clear where the paint hadn't entirely faded: a white star on a green background. I heard echoing thuds down the corridor I had just vacated. That Fallen was closing on me.

Thudding, harder, sharper, the machine stepped closer, until it reached the threshold of the common area. I could hear it moving through the rows of lockers, every piece of glass shattered under its weight, every time the suit dinged an ammo rack and nearly tipped it. Every movement sent my nerves spiraling, the pre-configured combat protocols commanding my joints to engage. The Fallen kept searching until it reached the row next to mine, where it slowed, as if it sensed my presence. The thud of its boots ever so gently caused the ammo racks to vibrate.

The machine stopped on the other side of the rack I was leaning against. I could faintly detect small machine movement, probably the Fallen moving its head to sniff me out. I had a short chance to gain the upper hand on this machine. I set my shoulder into the rack, held it steady, and activated the thrusters in my boots that allowed for my enhanced movement. The effect was instant. The racks I was leaning against toppled on to the mech, slamming hard. However, the momentum from that thrust sent me slamming into the next row over, and that toppled as well.

"Damnit," I groaned. If an Exo's body could ache, this is what it would feel like.

"Smooth moves," my Ghost chirped for the first time in several hours.

"I forgot you were here, Ghost," I coughed. "I wish you weren't. Anyway, it worked, didn't it?"

"No, it didn't. It's getting up."

"Fuck." Sure enough, the machine was beginning the shove off the ammunition shelf. I clambered up from atop the rack I had fallen on and staggered out the hall, moving back out the field. I could hear the whirrs as the mechanics in that Fallen's suit struggling with the weight of the shells, but sure enough, the footsteps started back again in my direction. A few feet from the edge of the field, I heard a shrapnel cannon shot, and a piece of metal plunged into my left shoulder. Artificial nerves screeched in unfelt agony to alert me to the damage. I was just a little too busy trying to prevent further injuries.

Two hours seemed to have passed in the time since I had first stepped onto the field, though it couldn't have actually been more than a quarter of that. The sun sat high in the sky and cast a shimmer on what bits of the walker were left unmarked. The dirt of the field was easily stomped into rising dust as I shambled over to an outstretched walker leg that would hopefully function as cover. Setting up my rifle was much more difficult than when I had done it up on the observation rim, due to the damage to my left shoulder, but soon enough, it lay unmoving on a bit of flat armor, aimed at the tunnel, my eye down the scope.

If two hours might have passed since I stepped down to the dirt the first time, then I spent an eternity looking, waiting for that Fallen to step out of the tunnel. First only a glint of blue, then an arm, and finally the body as it stepped out of the shade, hand outstretched to block the sunlight. Then, as it turned to face me, I fired.

The recoil nearly sent me sprawling, but when I cycled the bolt and looked through the scope again, I saw the mech. The impact had knocked it against the wall of the tunnel, but it stood of its own volition and moved towards me, once again. That round should have taken its head off. A second look told me all I needed to know. The round had hit it in the chest. That impact with the ammo rack must have affected the alignment of my scope. I was lucky that round had hit at all.

More rounds from the shrapnel cannon caused me to holster the rifle and move again. The smell of scorched metal struck me full on now, being this close to the wreck. I could even detect what smelled like…burnt flesh. The Fallen seemed to act in a rage, now. As it was firing wildly around the walker, I cycled from the leg at the rear of the walker up to the front, near where the explosion had occurred. Another idea occurred to me. Before the machine got around the back of the walker, I dodged inside the cabin, making sure that it noticed me.

Inside the walker was almost unrecognizable from the burns. What appeared to be some controls seemed to be distinguishable on the far side of the command pod, and there seemed to be a hatch to the under workings of the walker. I slid open the hatch and left it slightly ajar after I slid inside.

The inner workings of the walker appeared as a large, square room, with mostly maintenance panels along the walls, and a core at the center with a path leading around it. It was ghastly dark, especially with the walker powered down and most of the lighting inoperable. I switched on low-light vision and moved to the other side of the core.

"Ghost, get ready for my signal."

"I'm guessing I won't get any more explanation than that."

"If I explain it to you, you'll tell me how it's not going to work."

"Fine."

I sat in dead silence as the walker creaked, though whether from the weight of the Fallen or from the beating it took earlier. The front of the walker creaked more and more until the hatch opened and something crashed into the floor. It seemed the Fallen was more concerned with finding me than the resale value of this vehicle. It stepped throughout the under workings, creaking the floor with every step. I could see what appeared to be a green shimmer from what was left of its visor. Apparently the Fallen, too, had some sort of night vision. It began to step around the corner from which I was hiding.

"Ghost, lights!" I shouted as I turned off my low-light vision and activated my own personal helmet-mounted floodlights. My hand cannon only further blinded the Fallen with barrel flashes as I fired round after round into its weapon arm until there was little left but a stump. The rest of my cylinder was emptied into its helm. Fury consumed my actions. I tossed my hand cannon aside, drew my knife and thrust it time after time through the now-shattered visor.

By the time I stopped, my arm was coated with fallen blood. Nothing was recognizable inside the Fallen's helm. It must have been quite a scene. You'd expect after that that anyone would be a shambling mess, and expended at least physically. Walking away from that, out of that wreck, I probably looked quite the sociopath.

"You're one psychotic sonuvabitch, Wyatt," my Ghost whispered.

"I don't need this right now."

I called into Cayde as I wiped the Fallen's blood off on the Captain's cloak.

"It's…It's done."

"Do I get any more details than that?" Cayde asked?

"You'll want to send a team out here, with protection. The Fallen seemed to be using some sort of Golden-Age weaponry converted to work with their walkers. And, there's a…"

"A what?"

"Just get some people out here. I don't care if you come yourself, but someone needs to see this." I cut comms.

"You're damn right someone needs to see this," Ghost spoke. "But you need to see someone just as much."

* * *

It was late in the evening before I finally got back to the city. What with this new threat, Ghost had me flying low the whole time. Even the Tower seemed to be taking extra care with monitoring the traffic in and out of the area. As soon as I landed, I went to the nightclub. Though the Exo, as you might expect, did not get the usual effect from alcohol, there was a similar concoction that mixed with the coolant that did pump throughout an Exo's body. It was rather amusing, watching one of the City's police officers attempting to take a coolant/alcohol level to determine if you were over the limit.

I had only gotten my first dose in before Cayde sat on the stool next to me. Though he normally drew one of the largest crowds out of any guardian, when he walked in the room with that look on his face, people knew to stay back.

"Your Ghost sent me a recording of what happened."

"Shit."

"You're pretty clever for someone who's dead several times over."

"Thanks?"

"Until I got to the end."

"Yeah…"

"What's happened to you? Over the years, you've just been getting more and more solemn. It's like whenever I send you out you don't care if you come back."

"I don't know, Cayde."

"Why don't you take a break?" I started to object. "No, stop," Cayde continued. "Hang out here around the Tower. Go take a look around the City. See what you're protecting. See who you're protecting."

"Who's going to stop me?"

"The Tower. We've impounded your ship. It's grounded for the next two weeks. You can use the shuttle for local transport. If you don't take a break, you're going to break. That's all," Cayde finished. He walked away, sighing.

* * *

I ended up on the Tower's main balcony, looking out onto the City and at the Traveler. Looking at the ships coming and going, and at the moonlight. Just as when I rose from the dead not long ago, the night sky was scattered with stars. The mesmerizing twinkle of light from each one sent my head spinning until it took every effort to keep it up. Looking down was no better. All that could be seen was the way the shapes and colors of lights and advertisements shifted into one another until the blend of color made me feel sick to a stomach I didn't have.

"Why am I still here?" I wondered aloud to the Traveler. Thankfully Ghost wasn't with me; he had left momentarily to report on the results of my latest mission.

"Why am I forced to live life after life while I must watch so many of my fellows fall?"

I leaned closer to the Traveler, over the railing.

"When…will it be…my turn?"

I leaned ever closer.

"When…is it my turn…to fall?"

I started to tip.

An arm reached around me and yanked me back, hard. Black spots appeared in the corners of my vision. The last thing I remembered was a slender arm supporting my head and blue eyes rimmed by a face of similar color.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I am continuously stunned by the number of people who seem to find my content entertaining and continue to read. Forgive me if I'm misinterpreting. Honestly though, if you enjoy what I'm writing, please, for the love of god, tell me. Leave a review. Send me a message. Anything. It really helps me to continue writing this series. Otherwise, all I have is a traffic graph and a sheet of numbers. I don't mean to devalue how much your continued reading helps, but a kind word can go a long way._

 _Speaking of kind words, I'm going to go on a small tangent here in regards to a review left on this series. I'll post it here, in bold and in full:_

 **You're right! It's shitty in summary AND shitty in reality! You did a nice job showing what NOT to do in a book. Go read other books like Trouble Finds You or something, because you obviously need an example on how things go on ! The Ghost? "Pretend your lubricated?" This needs to be in the M section! Not for Teens! I recommend taking this down and going back over it one day, when you get an education.**

 _This review was left to me by an anonymous user. It's still on my reviews page, if you'd like to look at it (accurate as of time of writing (June 18, 2015, 00:24)). While there are a number of things I'd like to point out about it, I'll just name a few so as to keep this punctual:_

· _Very obvious grammar and spacing errors, showing that you lack the education you suggest I need._

· _Missing what was intended to be a "wet behind the ears" joke (though that joke may not have been as obvious as I hoped), then turning it into an innuendo._

· _Posting this anonymously, meaning you lack the spine to say these things outside of anonymity._

· _You have done nothing to help me improve this series, only calling it shit. Hell, if I can teach you how you could have improved your review of my writing, then you really aren't in much of a position to criticize my writing._

 _All in all, your review has done nothing. Though I admire the amount of detail Jack Barrington puts into his works, and hope to eventually be able to replicate it naturally, there's no reason to suggest that his way of doing things is the only way. Essentially, what I'm trying to say is fuck off. Thanks._


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six – Whiskey Bent…

My head was swimming in a pool of misery and confusion. I couldn't think past the thundering going on inside, like a jackhammer. I sat up and instantly regretted it. Sensors screeched about threats on all sides, while motors refused to respond, instead accepting only their own wild signals. Some joints locked into place, a mechanism to reduce damage take from high falls, such as from orbit, while others flailed wildly. I had lost control over my form as I thrashed about in the grass of the plains of Old Russia.

Suddenly, though my spasms become no less fevered, my threat sensors cleared, and I only vaguely registered something approaching from the northwest through the thunderstorm going on in my head. As they approached, the sound of dry grass crunching under their feet overpowered the thundering until the night was deathly quiet between each footfall. Soon, the deep breaths, muffled by a respirator, were also audible.

I was still floundering about on the ground when it stepped beside me, and as my flailing took me onto my back, a heavy boot settled onto my chest, and all motion inside me stopped. The boot, ever so slowly, pushed down until I could hear the…ribs…cracking? My breath forced up through my throat, I coughed up…blood…spattered over my gloves and the boot of this creature. A cold wind made me suddenly aware that my head was exposed to the atmosphere, though another rudimentary attempt (and failure) at foot-based CPR caused another cough and subsequent gasp for air…I needed air. My gaze focused on the creature restraining me. A Fallen of some sort, unsurprising.

The creature growled at me and kicked me aside, and I rolled across the plain, gasping for breath. It roared across the plateau, and more footfalls broke what was up to then silence save for my body and the Fallen's. I had only risen to my knees when two Vandals grabbed me by the arms and yanked me so that I was held there. A cool breath floated into my lungs, courtesy of the night breeze, and I realized that I was looking over a cliff's edge with a clear view of the Tower and the Traveler.

The large Fallen, the only who had first befallen me, stepped between me and my view. Another howl from it, echoed by the night's wind, brought even more Fallen feet, dragging…something. My…heart, I decided…beat fast, hard and hollow in my chest. What was this? The Fallen moved up on my left, and in dropped something in between me and the large Fallen. A body, facedown, with shoulder-length brown hair. I wrenched away from the two Vandals holding me captive and grabbed the shoulder of the fellow hunter, slowly turning it over. I saw just what I feared.

A silky smooth, but deathly pale face stared back at me with blank eyes. Her curved features framed a pair of dark brown eyes fading to dark green around the center. Soft lashes and a slightly gapped mouth only confirmed my worries. She wasn't moving, and I couldn't hear her breathing. I turned my ear to her chest to check for a heartbeat, but as I did, she sputtered to life with a cough and a gag, lurching up into me. I held her tight as she continued coughing, and it was all I could do to keep breathing. She was back here with me.

The large Fallen barked at the others, and they wrenched her off of me, despite my best attempts and all my strength. As they tore her away, I could feel the subtle pressure in her hands and fingertips as they unraveled from behind me, though whether it was an attempt to reassure me or to resist the Fallen I did not know.

"Wy…Wyatt…" she wisped.

The Vandals behind me once again held me kneeling, as two more Fallen moved in, dragging someone. It took all my will to rip my eyes from hers as another body fell to his knees to my right, the three of us and the large Fallen forming a diamond pointed at the Traveler. The man, an Exo, rose to his knees of his own will and was soon restrained by the Fallen as well, and as he looked at me I could tell by his features that the man on my right was Cayde.

"You too?" I questioned, though the answer should have been simple enough to observe.

The large Fallen growled at me, and produced a hand cannon. My hand cannon. With a fluid dexterity, it opened the cylinder and loaded a single cartridge. The cylinder locked closed, and the weapon fell to the ground in front of me. The Fallen holding my arms stepped back, and I fell to my hands and knees over top of the weapon.

"Choose," the large Fallen growled, sounding distinctly alien, but somehow…human…in its speech. A Fallen had just spoken to me. And I understood.

"What?" I muttered, looking up at the shadowed figure towering over me and my fellows.

The creature remained silent, but Cayde spoke up.

"You need to choose. Choose who lives. Me, or her, Wyatt. Choose."

"I…I can't do this. I can't condemn one of you to die."

"If you don't, all three of us will." As he spoke the words, as if in response, the two Fallen who had been holding me drew their weapons and aimed them at the two. The large Fallen drew his own shrapnel cannon and aimed it at me, the burning heat of the barrel threatening to scorch my face.

I slowly picked up the weapon so as not to alert the Fallen.

"How do you expect me to do this?" Both of the others were silent, only the large Fallen growled at me, obviously impatient.

I kneeled there, and I thought about the choice. To shoot either her, or my longtime mentor and friend. To shoot her, or my handler, who had risked his neck and reputation several times over to help assure that my mission was finished, just as he had wasting a several-thousand-glimmer drone ship in order to finish off that walker. To kill her, or to kill the only person who, over the vast majority of my time as a guardian, had listened to me. Who cared for me.

The large Fallen growled again, but this time I had chosen. I turned slowly and aimed the weapon. The Fallen all around me seemed to hum with anticipation, eager to see their mortal enemies turn on eachother. My finger tensed on the trigger.

"Do what you have to, Wyatt," Cayde spoke, facing down the gun barrel.

I stared him in the eyes as I pulled down on the trigger.

* * *

Cayde was faster than I gave him credit for.

As the hammer pulled back to strike, Cayde hit first. He grabbed the barrel and wrenched it towards him with his right hand as the back of his left made contact with the side of my head. In my weakened state, I fell onto my back immediately. The Fallen around us were gone. Still, I managed to look up in time to see the hammer on my revolver fall, to see her head kick back, to see the small flicks of blood exit her forehead. To see the splatter exit the back of her head, perfectly framed by the moonlit shadow of the City in contrast to the darkness of Old Russia.

I fell onto her, watched her dark brown eyes close shut for the last time, felt the heat of her breath as it exited her lungs. As I looked down onto her, I could have almost sworn that in her final moments, her hand gripped mine.

I kneeled there, over her corpse, as the wind howled across the plains once more. As if nothing happened. My emotions gave way to grief, to remorse. Then to anguish. I let loose a cry across the empty sky of Old Russia, sending what birds that hadn't been shaken by the gunshot up to cross the sky. Finally, to anger. As I fell to my hands, I felt for and found the knife on her hip. I drew it slowly, and rose to my knees. I turned to Cayde, and saw nothing in his eyes.

Nothing.

I don't know what happened next. I don't remember. The next thing I did was that Cayde was holding me to the ground, against the flowing grasses of the plains. Darkness was creeping in at the edges of my vision as I moaned and moaned and the hollow laughter of the large Fallen echoed in my ears. The last thing I heard was Cayde's words in my ear.

"Wyatt…Wyatt…she's already dead…"

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks for your patience. Hopefully this makes up for the wait._


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven - …And Hell-Bound

My headed clouded with the fog of what had just transpired. Flashes of it, what I could remember as it faded, played through my motion in slow motion, but still nearly too fast to make sense of. I was drowning in the typhoon of emotion swirling throughout my brain; overtaken by feelings something like me, a mechanical being, shouldn't be able to feel. And I was stuck in it.

Slowly, forcefully, spots of color and light came into existence near the center of my vision, revealing a small, L-shaped apartment, the kind allotted to the more affluent guardians, allowing them a more private residence. Still though, it was nearly as barren as the barracks I had spent my "first" night back in the Tower in. The only spots of color showing could be seen in the various screens near the front door used to manage the various setting inside, a small peek of a cloak floating in through a crack in the sliding closet door, and an Awoken hunter sitting cross-legged in a seat across from the bed I was lying in. She was tapping away on a tablet, intently focused, until she saw I was awake, when she hurried over to me.

"How do you feel?" a small voice asked, like she was a caring mother.

A sudden flash of pain drove a spike through my head, and I may have lashed out as I winced.

"Why do you give a shit?"

"Why do you Exo insist on injecting whatever happens to be the closest foreign liquid you can in hopes of becoming inebriated? Alcohol isn't a coolant."

"The fuck gave me straight alcohol? Goddamn."

"Yeah, well, next time, don't be an idiot about these sorts of things. You could have died."

"Well, as a matter of fact…never mind."

"How about you do me a favor and lay off the inebriants for a while? I'd hate to see you make another attempt at unassisted skydiving from the balcony."

"You seem awfully invested in my wellbeing."

"When you've spent a couple days attempting to heal a fellow guardian, you don't want to see your work go to waste."

"Wait…a couple days? Lord…oh god…Cayde will be furious."

"Oh, yeah, they've had frames out looking for you. No one knows you're here."

"I'd better go; you know what they say about keeping him waiting."

"I'm sorry Wyatt, I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"You…You know my name? Never mind. I promise not to shoot myself. Can I go now?"

"No."

"Well…I guess that's just too damn bad," I said, swinging my legs to rise. Though my head might have been swimming, my body seemed to work just fine, apparently thanks to my new captor. Unfortunately for me, however, she too seemed to be faster than I gave her credit for, and she was on top of me before I was even completely on my feet, a knife to my neck. I reached for mine, only to realize that it was gone, having apparently found a new home in her hands.

"Nuh-uh," she spoke, her breath suddenly very hot on my face as her deep blues darted from my eyes to my lips and back. She shifted to an apparently more comfortable position straddling me as she pushed me back down onto the bed and her breathing slowed.

"Now," she almost lisped, "you're going to stay right here…" she moved closer to my face, "until I say you can leave." She leaned next to my ear. "Or else."

Never before had a woman so intimidated me, but still, Cayde's wrath was more so.

"Sorry, Miss, but I think I get what you're going at. I ride solo," I spoke as I tried again to rise.

"That's too bad," she whispered, still next to my ear. She leaned in closer, almost touching me. "Because now I'm riding with you."

I felt a subtle pressure in the opposite side of my neck, and I realized too late: she was injecting something into my coolant system.

I tensed instinctively and tried for a final time to push her off. I could only get a few words out before I blacked out: "You…little…b…"

* * *

I awoke again on the plateau, this time sitting on the edge, my head clear as the sky. The moon shone almost blindingly amongst the stars around in. Another breeze flew across the plain, and as I turned my head to meet it. I caught sight of her. Her brown hair swayed gently with the wind as she looked at me. Her hand rose to caress my cheek.

"Wyatt…"

* * *

When I came to in the apartment, it was dark outside and in, visible through the small window looking out over the wilderness. My head was still pounding, though this time it was clear that it was only due to an Exo inebriant. However, what was most surprising was the Awoken curled up against me on the bed, my arm under her. I was more than a little perplexed, as I didn't recall this being the ending of our last encounter.

"What?" I spoke a little too loudly.

The hunter rolled over from her side onto her back, on top of my left arm, to reveal that she was still clutching my knife. She blinked several times and yawned in her same soft voice, then whispered: "What is it, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I'm not having any of this." This time, I was ready. My right arm on top of her chest to grab my knife, I slid my left out from under her and placed it against her neck. She seemed to relinquish the weapon easily, as if she wanted it to happen. I pushed her out onto the ground and slid to my feet, my knife now held outward at her to keep her away.

"Where's my armor?"

Fallen onto the ground on her side, she looked up at me with sad eyes and pointed at the closet, a hurt look visible.

As I backed toward the closet to don my armor, she spoke as she rose.

"Listen, sweetheart, can't we talk this out?" She moved lankily towards me with another look in her eye.

I lunged with my knife, not to injure her, only to intimidate her, but she seemed to move into the blade. I cut along her shoulder, small, but still enough to bleed her.

"Alright, I get it," she spoke, and settled back against the wall next to the bed. The whole time I was armoring up, she stared at me, head tilted downward. Once my cloak was attached, I backed towards the door, and even through my exit, she said not a thing.

I stepped into the hallway and as the door shut behind me, another door opened some distance deeper into the apartment facility. A warlock stepped out, and as she turned to me I realized it was Ikora Rey. She looked at me, recognized me, and nodded. We had done some work together in the past. However, when she realized the door I had exited from, noticed the hour, and put two and two together, she smiled at me, winked and slunk back into her room.

"Women…" I thought to myself as I moved down the hall as fast and silently as I could.

* * *

Cayde answered his door in his armor, as he would when called upon during the day. Either someone warned him or he had been expecting me.

"What do you need, Wyatt? Here, come in. Take a seat."

I stepped into his apartment, and he took a seat at a desk. He motioned for me to do the same with a chair on the other side of the table.

"I'll keep this short, Cayde. You've gotta let me back out there."

"What's wrong, Wyatt? Does the Tower lifestyle not suit you? Think about how I feel," he laughed.

"I'd prefer not to go into details, Cayde. Please. Let me out of here. I'm an outside robot."

"Hunters tend to be. Still though, I don't understand. As I've been informed, you've been a part of some extraordinary events recently, and even made a new friend."

"You…You know about her?"

"It's the Tower, Wyatt. Information spreads. It doesn't help you that I've ensured that the Vanguard has a…wide…cone of vision here. Anyway, you'd think an opportunity like that'd help to relax you even further. She's been the talk of the Tower ever since she arrived. She's one of the most talented hunters we've ever had, and she's only been here for a few weeks. I've heard she's even been the cause of several tavern brawls-both the beginning and end. Many of the male guardians around here would be jealous. Even a few of the females," Cayde spoke with a certain spark in his eye.

"Cayde…you didn't…"

"She was even more eager to prove herself to the Vanguard. When I told her about you, she was ecstatic to start working with someone more…experienced."

"I've already learned a lot from him, Cayde. He was keen teacher once I got him to…open up," she spoke from behind me. The hunter had slunk in and was now leaning against the wall near the door.

"Glad to hear it," Cayde responded. "However, I hear Wyatt's shore duty isn't faring well with him."

"Just give me another day or so, Cayde," she said as she moved up behind me and her hand flowed over my shoulders. "I'm sure I can get past that metal exterior."

"That's not necessary. I know him, he's stubborn. Locking him up here will only culminate in someone getting hurt. I've got a job for you. The two of you."

"Cayde, I need to talk to you about something, privately."

"Anything you can tell me, you can tell the newest member of your fire team."

"Don't bullshit me like that Cayde, I'm serious."

"Fine." He motioned for her to leave. She huffed and stepped out. "Do you have a concern about this you haven't already made vocal?" he said as he turned back to me.

"You know what happened the last time you paired me with another guardian. You know what happened to her. Don't do this to me again."

The comment clearly struck him somewhere he didn't expect it to. Cayde visible shuddered in his seat.

"This…is different, Wyatt. This'll be good for you. I just…I know it. Just do this. Do it for me, do it for yourself, do it for them. Both of them. If you have anything else to say, I don't want to hear it, just go. And for the love of god, play along with her. You might lighten up a little. Now go. Your ship's been allowed to fly again. Get up to orbit. I'll brief you once you're there."

"For the both of us Cayde, I hope you know what you're doing."

I stepped out of Cayde's apartment, and the hunter was waiting for me. She stepped up next to me, and tried to slip her hand into mine. I shook her away. As we walked to the hangar, we passed a fire team, apparently led by the titan. When I walked by him, he clapped me on the back.

"You're one lucky sonuvabitch, man."

"In more than one way," I thought. "Less so in others, though."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I hope that by the end of this chapter you don't feel as disappointed as I was worried that some people might feel as they read the beginning. I just...I hope you don't think this chapter is shit. Honestly, I feel like you readers are better judges of a piece's quality than I am as its writer. That's why, as always, I am open to feedback. My traffic graph says you people exist. I would love to hear from you._


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight – Long Arm of the Law

Holliday seemed hardly surprised when I showed up with the hunter on my arm, though it was rare that anything could shake the wizened woman. She rolled out from under her latest project, stood up, and smudged a spot of grease off the corner of her cheek before looking the two of us up and down.

"What do you need, Wyatt?"

"I'm told I've been ungrounded and Cayde needs me in orbit."

"Well, yeah, that's true. There's only one complication." A small grin came over her as she glanced to the Awoken at my side. "Will you two be sharing?"

* * *

It took until we had successfully achieved orbit that I realized I had never asked the hunter's name. I opened a comm channel once she had pulled along my port side in her own ship.

"Since we're stuck together, there's one thing I should ask of you."

"Anything, handsome," she giggled.

It took all of my willpower to prevent from making a certain insulting statement. I still needed answers from her and silencing her that way wouldn't help.

"What's your name?" I somehow managed to say without the malice I wanted to.

"So you sleep with a gal and don't even have the nerve to ask her name first? So you're that kinda guy…I like it. Annabelle."

It turns out that my willpower seemed to have deteriorated during my time in the ground.

"I lied. I have two things to ask of you. The second: drop the goddamn temptress act. If you aren't observant enough to have noticed by now that I'm not interested, you aren't skilled enough to be a hunter. You're lucky that Cayde doesn't know you drugged me."

"He gave it to me, you know. How the hell would I know what an Exo inebriant looked like? He told me to use it if you got…physical. Luckily, I like physical."

A few switch flips on the console cut the comm line, and she didn't try to reopen it. I leaned back in my seat, exasperated. She was as clingy as a child, and took the word "No." about as well as one.

"Are you feeling the heartache, Wyatt?" my Ghost piped up, appearing over my shoulder from out of nowhere.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"The life of a Ghost is not entirely interesting. However, this incarnation of you seems to be engaged in one of the most interesting relationships yet. I can't wait to see how it turns out. If you want my advice…"

"I don't."

"Too bad. Anyway, keep her distant, but remember: you're her mentor. Teach her."

Our conversation was interrupted by a comm request from the Tower. I opened it, and Cayde's voice broke the silence.

"She tells me you haven't been playing nice. Consider it an order to do so. I'm bringing her into this channel."

"You know Cayde, I think these Fallen are starting to recognize my cloak. Maybe it's time to fake my death again, you know, start over. Forget all acquaintances."

"Nice try."

Another crackle from the speaker indicated that she had keyed into our frequency.

"I'm here, Cayde," she spoke.

"Good, now listen. This assignment is…volatile. We need to keep it clandestine and quiet. Don't expect any Tower support. You'll be touching down some distance from the target area and moving forward from there. In fact, you'll be travelling around surface-side wherever we need you. Consider it more of an operation than a mission."

"Then you need to be straight with us about the details, Cayde. Come on, talk to us."

"Well, here's the thing about your targets. They're…people."

"What? You can't be serious."

"Let me finish. With your recent…preoccupation…you probably haven't heard of it. There was a large exodus of the City's people, almost a quarter of the total population, overnight. We don't know how they got out, but they did. Some of our scouts think it was the Trinity Star."

"The cult?"

"They think the cult has been practicing in secret, recruiting in the dark pits of the City. You know that we don't have much presence down there. Other than the occasional display of might and the frame patrols, we're blind. They've likely convinced the population of the "evils" of the Traveller. We're worried they're planning on using old pre-Collapse armaments to attack the City. We need you to infiltrate one such base where they've been spotted. It's far from Fallen activity, so you shouldn't have to worry about any outside interference. However, we need to prevent this from backfiring on us. We can't mobilize just after a mass exodus. So we've got small teams operating all over Old Russia."

"Cayde, you've got to understand that this is a lot to take on all at once. These are citizens of the City. Isn't there any way to solve this without violence?"

"Not when the Trinity Star is involved. I've sent you the coordinates to your target. It's an old missile base. It's mostly topside, but we think the brunt of their leadership is below ground. I want you flying low the whole way, they didn't put this many armaments down in a blind facility. Don't get any closer than twenty miles in your ships."

"Are you sure about this? Really sure?"

"It seems sketchy to me too," Annabelle spoke from her ship, having been silent up until this point.

"I know how it sounds. But sometimes drastic things need to be done. I'm relying on you to do this. Trust me, there'll be a much larger shitstorm if we don't, and it'll come down on all of us."

* * *

We were silent the whole flight there. I suppose the weight of our mission was too large to allow words. Annabelle only spoke once we had landed and sent the ships back to the Tower. She spoke hesitantly, as if she expected each word to bring another bout of my rage. She walked more sullenly as well, her head dipped slightly.

"That's a…large rifle," she wisped. Her tone of voice made it clear that she wasn't implying an innuendo.

"Golden Age, restored with some modern parts. It's loud. I probably won't be able to use it without setting off some sort of an alarm, but we might need the stopping power."

"That's alright. I've got one too, suppressed. I suppose I could run overwatch for you. If you trust me." Still, her voice wavered on every syllable, like a frightened child, though she seemed strangely proud of the weapon.

Her eyes lifted to me, but as I met them, she looked away quickly.

"Yeah, we can do that," I said, and as I turned forward to start walking again, I swore she had stolen another glance at me, and might have even smiled, just a bit.

* * *

It was at least a couple of hours of walking before we caught sight of the facility. Situated on a ridge dividing the valley we were walking, it sported high, reinforced walls, and this coupled with the few buildings that were visible at our angle, gave the illusion of a castle. A quick zoom courtesy of my helm even granted a short glimpse of someone walking the parapet, drawn against the fading evening light.

"We'll rest here for now. When darkness falls, we'll move. We'll get you set up in that tower, and there you should be able to get a clear view of the whole facility. When it's cleared out, we can move below," I said, indicating what appeared to be some sort of watchtower set up a short distance from the base's wall. "Depending on what we can see when we get up there, we might have to move into the structures topside and ensure they're cleared out."

"Yes…sir?" she said meekly.

I sighed. "Listen, Annabelle, I'm your mentor, not your superior. I don't own you. That said, our "relationship" is a strictly professional one. So, if I bed down for a few hours while the sun sets, I need your assurance that when I wake up you won't be lying next to me. Got it?"

"Okay…Wyatt."

"Good."

* * *

And so I settled down and lay there, alone with my thoughts for some time, at least. Over the last few days, so much drama had taken place I wasn't sure whether I was a soldier or a politician. I sure as hell wasn't interested in any long term bonding with Annabelle, at least as anything more than members of the same fireteam. It's something you have to learn in the field, something that defies basic human nature. You have to learn to attach to someone you can let go of. I was never good at that. I never got the grasp of a grey area. Not until I learned the hard way.

Though my previous rests had been plagued by intrusions of the unsettling variety, when I lay down on the prairie grass, I was left untouched by my demons. It probably had something to do with the lack of foreign materials in my system, as I was no closer to coming to terms with my demons than I was before my most recent ascension. Perhaps even farther.

True to her word, when I awoke and pulled my cloak back from over my eyes, Annabelle was a few yards away, prone near the crest of the small hill we had put between us and the facility, keenly observing through the scope of her rifle. I stared at her, with a sudden realization. I knew nothing about her. Her backstory, who she really was. I didn't like that. You don't deploy without information. In fact, she seemed to guard it.

She jumped when I appeared next to her on the hill crest, a sign of either nervousness or a lack of experience. She'd learn. I'd teach her.

"What do you see?"

"They've got very regular patrols around the ramparts, and they're all armed. Strange. Cayde did say that there was no Fallen activity around here, right?"

"Yeah, he did. Maybe they're expecting us. It's too dark for them to get much sight on us now, we can move in."

We stalked across the plains crouched low, Annabelle walking close behind me, like a shadow. Twice, we ducked into the high grasses to avoid spooking a sentry. As we got closer, it became clear that some of the lights that could be seen in the distance were not, in fact, small fixtures to assist in pathfinding in the dark, but rather searchlights to keep the area surrounding the facility brightly lit. As we came to the bottom of the ridge, I turned to Annabelle.

"Do you have climbing gear?"

"No, I've never needed it before."

A small sigh escaped my lips before I caught myself, and I hoped that my helms microphone hadn't picked it up. Her change in posture indicated that yes, it had.

"It's…It's alright. I've got it. Stand still."

Given the nature of my armor as being basically a harness in itself, my gear was mostly useless to me. "This might be awkward," I thought to myself as I withdrew the straps, rope, and anchors.

The shoulder straps were easy enough. Over and hooked in with her belt, tightened. However, when I bent down to do the thigh straps, she stiffened.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked hurriedly.

"In a word: yes. Stay still."

I slung the strap around her thigh and reached between her legs to catch it and bring it around, tightened it just enough to keep it there, and moved to the other leg, without a hitch. All throughout, she was stiff as a deer in headlights. Even more so when I tightened the straps.

"Tell me when it starts to get uncomfortable," I said as I started to tighten her harness.

"Now."

"Tell me when the STRAPS get uncomfortable."

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she was climb-ready. I walked her through the steps.

"Essentially, it's a counterweight. The rope will run between us and through an anchor. If one of us falls, the weight of the other should slow us. Got it?"

"I suppose."

I started up the wall, my high-friction gauntlets finding easy purchase on the jagged stone. Annabelle, on the other hand, seemed to be having a bit more difficulty. Given, being a hunter, she was still keeping up, but it was clear that she was not enjoying the affair. It almost brought a smile to my face. "How does it feel being so uncomfortable?" I thought.

Then, she fell.

I had just set another anchor into the rock face, backed down a few feet, and given her the go ahead. She got up a few meters or so, still several meters below me, when a rock slipped and took her with. As the dynamic rope reached the end of its stretch, I jutted upward from where I had set my feet and slammed my side into the anchor, though given my armor; I didn't feel the impact nearly as badly as it could have been.

I looked down to see Annabelle sprawled limply, supported by only the harness and the anchor. Either the fall had broken something or the rock had hit her on the way down. To my dismay, the anchor was visibly straining with the full weight of two fully-equipped guardians. I made a risky decision, but it was really the only one I had.

I set my boots as solidly as I could into the rock surface, drew and plunged my knife into a crack in the rocks, and unclipped from the anchor. Suddenly the full force of Annabelle's (admittedly light compared to some of the other guardians I had seen) body was put onto my body. My arm thrust into a crack in the rocks as I lifted my knife arm to once again make an anchor, my boots' every position seeming more tenuous every second. I climbed.

Though we had started climbing not more than a few minutes ago, it seemed to take more than a day to reach the precipice. As I pulled myself up onto the edge of the cliff, I almost felt my boot slip, something that would have taken Annabelle to an early grave, though I might recover. "Not today," I muttered. Boots set firmly into the dirt, I started the arduous task of pulling Annabelle up after me. As she appeared over the edge of the ridge, I grabbed her harness and yanked her up after me. She lay against the grasses, strangely shorter up here than below in the valley, as limp as she was against the cliff.

"Ghost, can you run a diagnostic?"

"I'll see what there is to see," he said as he appeared over my shoulder and zoomed in close to her face, then moved down to her torso. "It seems the rock struck her in the chest. I'll keep looking."

I stole a glance over at the facility. It seems that no one had taken notice of our escapade, and the normal patrols still continued around the palisade, unaware of us no more than 200 feet away. The searchlights, however, flooded the area immediately around the facility up to about forty feet away. Still though, I had an idea.

"How's she doing, Ghost?"

"Not good. The rock hit her hard. She's having trouble breathing and needs CPR."

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm just fucking with you. She'll be fine. She's just unconscious. I'll have her up in a second." Ghost seemed to…charge…for a second, then delivered her an electric shock. She lay there, unmoving.

"Was that supposed to work?"

"I don't know, I'm not a doctor."

Annabelle shot up. "What happened?"

"I dragged you up the cliff. If you were a titan, we'd both be dead. Well, maybe not. The Exo are pretty tough. So are titans, I suppose."

"Well. Uh, thanks. I guess," she muttered, somewhat confused.

"Anyway, facility. Missiles. Threat to the City."

"Yeah…"

* * *

We moved in closer to the exterior of the facility, though we were still about a hundred feet from the exterior wall. The sentries were still patrolling just as they had when we were observing a few hours ago.

"I can get inside. When I do, I'll shut down those floodlights. Then, I need you to move up into that tower," I said, indicating the exterior watchtower halfway between us and the facility, "and start firing."

"How do you plan to get inside without one of those sentries noticing you?"

"This suit was…custom made. Like my rifle, its largely Golden-Age components. Most interestingly of which…" I said. I switched on the emitters, and they flickered and warped as light itself gave way to my form. "…is a module perfected by an engineer named Chekhov."

"That's not fair."

"Perks of the job."

"Just, go."

I chuckled under my breath as I moved towards the wall, crouched low. Even though light gave way to my presence, the imperfections in images caused be this were very clear at close range or under heavy inspection. Still though, I reached the base of the wall unimpeded and unnoticed. I commed to Annabelle, "Signal me when it's clear."

She turned her attention to the edge of the facility and held up her arm, signaling me to hold. Then, her hand changed to a thumbs-up as she whispered, "Go."

The movement boost from my boots, muffled by the Golden-Age tech, still was loud enough to me that I worried discovery, but even as I maneuvered over the top of the barrier, no one turned to me. It was then that I realized: There were very few people in the facility, no more than three sentries and five people on the ground.

As I told Annabelle of the situation, I added: "There's probably more underground."

"Agreed," she wisped.

I followed the wires with my eyes, and hopped the inner palisade rail to fall next to a building that seemed to house the power for the floodlights. As soon as no one was looking, I slipped in through the door. The barracks-like buildings had no windows, only a single door. With the others all grouped around a fire in a clearing to the east side of the encampment, more of these barracks-like buildings and the main complex lay to the west. South of me, Anna was waiting for the lights to be cut.

I slipped off a panel and cut the wires leading outside to the lights, and replaced it. This was immediately followed by a cry from outside.

"Hey, Ryan! The searchlights are out again. Can you take a look?"

"Fine."

Quickly, I slipped over to the wall next to the door and stood there, still invisible. Soon, a man walked in and moved over to the power source whose wires I had cut. A quick inspection would reveal the vandalism, and raise an alarm. But could I really kill him?

He removed the panel and began to inspect the wiring. "That's funny…" he spoke to himself. "Oh, oh my god. H-…" My hand cut off any attempt to raise an alarm. Without thinking, my knife slid across his throat, as easily as any Fallen's. I stood there, still, for a few seconds, as blood dripped down his shirt. When I released him, he sloughed to the floor, weakly coughing up blood. I…I stopped thinking, and bent down to wipe the blood off on his shirt. Just as I had with the blood of the Fallen mech suit on the Captain's cloak. Annabelle commed in.

"Wyatt…I…I don't know that I can do it. I'm in the tower like you asked, it's just…these are people, here."

"I know, Annabelle, I know. But this is our job. Doing this, we're saving everyone left in the City. It's them or us. These few, or our many. I know it's hard, but it has to be done."

She said nothing. Then, I heard a quiet sight. Then, gunshots. Running feet stampeding, toward me. I ducked again into the corner, reactivating the light-bending module. Three people burst into the room, all breathing heavily. I slowly readied my sidearm.

"We've…we've got to warn the guys underground."

"Didn't you see what happened? Joe ran for the building. He didn't make it. None of us will."

"Why…why are they doing this?"

"Wait," one of them turned and raised a finger at me. "What's that?"

Before any one of them could raise a weapon of their own, I started firing. Six shots rang out. Then, I stood alone in that room, surrounded by bodies. I stood there, stunned. Then, I walked to the door. It was opened for me. I raised my weapon and fired, but I was too slow. Whoever it was tackled me. I guess I was still dazed from what I had just done.

"Wyatt…Wyatt!" Annabelle cried.

"What…what?"

"When I heard more shots…are you alright?" she spoke hurriedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I think."

"It's just, you're covered in blood."

It was there, in the reflection of her visor, that I finally saw. Splattered across my torso, covering my shins, with specks marked on the fringes of my cloak, and a droplet slowly, carefully, moving down my visor, I saw what I had become.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I know, I know, I missed a day. I hope I didn't trigger anyone. I just didn't feel satisfied with the amount of content I managed to fit in this chapter yesterday, and decided to continue it today. For the record, I do all of this writing from around 23:00 to 1-2:00 the next day. So yes, most of my writing takes place across two days, technically, and sometimes I have to cut things short to accomplish sleeping._

 _Also, I understand that it may be difficult to visualize exactly how certain things are laid out or what an object looks like, so I'd be more than happen to draw a simple map or provide my inspiration, for say, Wyatt's hybrid chestplate/harness. And as ever, please tell what you think of the story so far. I do know exactly how things are going to play out from now onward, and how I want this plot to finish, but that doesn't change that some things could occur in between those two points…_


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine – A Man of Constant Sorrow

My reflection shattered as Annabelle's helm segmented and retracted into the collar of her armor, revealing her eyes staring inquisitively up into mine. I could see the fear in her eyes as they darted from spot to spot around my body. I was still reeling from what I had done, but just as pre-Collapse soldiers sometimes fell back on basic training in periods of high stress, the Exo had basic subroutines, particularly those with military backgrounds, and the one I defaulted to was trauma relief.

I put my arm around her shoulder, and began to guide her out the door. She resisted, feebly, and kept trying to turn her head back to the bodies. A simple sweep of the arm opened the door of the aging barracks, and we stepped outside into what was now almost complete darkness. The sun having long fallen and the floodlights out, the only light came from small bulbs set around haphazardly. I set Annabelle down on a crate, and noticing one labelled "Water", I looted it and handed her a bottle. She took it in a shaking hand, and fumbled with the cap until it gave way to her grasp, downing half of it in a single motion. She still shook, but this was joined with deep, hiccupping breaths. I sat next to her and replaced my arm, the subroutines fading to give my conscious self full control.

"Annabelle, you know why this had to be done. You know why we're doing this."

She didn't answer, only continued her gasping.

"These people aren't like the ones at the Tower. They would have done anything to harm to each and every one of the people there. You've got to know that we're doing this for everyone in the City."

She managed to mutter out a single word: "Y…Yeah…"

Annabelle still did not look away from the dirt floor of the compound where she had set her gaze when I sat her down. I set my hands firmly on her shoulders and gently turned her towards me.

"And believe me; I need you to help me do this. I need you to stay strong. I can't do this without you." I helped her to her feet.

"Okay."

We started walking towards the main compound, I helping her along when she stumbled.

"What sort of romantic fiction did you pull that out of?" Ghost blurted inside my helm, silent to everyone but myself.

"Fuck if I know."

* * *

Some feet from the door to the main compound, she pushed me off gently enough. "I can handle myself from here," she said with a coldness to her tone.

"Annabelle, you can't hate me for what I did."

"No, but I can hate them."

* * *

The door creaked open eerily; as though it hadn't been used in years, giving way to an empty foyer save for a few chairs and a receptionist's desk. The entire place was stained with water damage and mold, and reeked of it too. We moved through the corridors and offices, my hand cannon drawn, Annabelle holding a sidearm. The place seemed to be in the same state of disuse that could be expected of a building given the circumstances. It seems that the population of this particular facility mostly resided down below. Cayde did, after all, warn us of a large hostile presence, and we had encountered less than ten outside.

Eventually, we came to a set of freight elevators, and tested one to find it in working condition. From down below came a deep rumbling sound, something like sputtering diesel. Annabelle and I stepped into the elevator and sent it rumbling downward. Annabelle whispered to me just loudly enough to be audible over the engine.

"When we get through this…I think I'm going to need a drink."

"You don't look like you could handle your liquor."

She scoffed in offense. "You don't look like you could handle a woman like me."

"And yet here we are."

I added a small smile onto the end, and though she discernably gasped, I could have sworn that she did too.

* * *

As the elevator seemed to near its destination, I readied my weapon. Annabelle followed suit. It shuddered in its frame as we touched down, and I heard a feminine voice call from ahead.

"David, go check and see who that is."

"Yes, ma'am," a man called in response. Footsteps clattered down the hall the elevator opened up in to, and as I stepped into the open, this "David" didn't have time to raise his weapon before I put one into his chest. It appeared that along this hallway, labs stretched in both directions, filled with all sorts of various contraptions and studies, things that the City would likely be interested in when techs came in to go over the place. At the end of the hall, a cry echoed, "David!", and as a lab coat flashed across the entrance to that room, blast doors began to shut. The doorway was far enough, and the doors closing fast enough, that I didn't bother to run for it. Instead, I hoped that whatever scum lay inside watched as I walked towards the door.

"Ghost, get this open," I said, directing him to the nearby terminal.

"Aaaaaaand…Got it. Door opening," he said in a matter of seconds. "These systems were not exactly kept up-to-date in terms of security."

The doors began to hiss open once again, and as a crack appeared of large enough size to grant me vision, I managed to sidestep a shotgun blast from inside. Over the roar of the weapon, I heard as it clattered to the floor. No other sounds emanated from the room as the doors hissed to a halt inside their frames. Stepping across the threshold, the lab coat, now given form in the shape of an aging woman with pure white hair and glasses holding her arms up in surrender.

"First the scavengers, now this…" she muttered in a raspy voice. The shotgun lay at her feet, likely dropped at the recoil.

Annabelle stepped forward on my right, weapon still pointed at the woman. "Scavengers? Were there other people here before you? Did you…kill them?" I almost put my hand on her shoulder to stop her, but it occurred to me that we might be able to gain something valuable about the Trinity Star.

"Killed people? Good god, no. We're just here to try and settle, to try and make a life for ourselves outside of the poverty of the City. Can't you see that? All under harassment from those scavenging creatures and the "Guardians" of the City. Why can't you leave us in peace?"

Annabelle seemed to recoil at this, and lowered her weapon, holstering it. Then, she turned to me, eyes wide with confusion, and opened a comm channel. "Do you think she's telling the truth? Unless Cayde's suddenly gotten false infor-"

As motion from the corner of my eye caught my attention, I thrust my shoulder into her, tackling her to the ground, and another shot rang out from where the woman was standing. While the woman was recovering from the shotgun's force, I drew Annabelle's sidearm, and fired at the woman. Every impact was visible in her frail frame as she fell back against the wall and slid to the ground.

I lay there, slumped awkwardly on top of Annabelle, for what seemed to be an eternity as the woman skidded to the ground, leaving behind a blood-red curtain on shade on the wall. We both seemed exhausted, though only one of us could exercise any ability to breathe and reduce our heartrate. Then, to maintain whatever professionalism was left between us, I rose and extended my arm to Annabelle. The look in her eyes suggested that she too wanted to lie there forever, but perhaps she was just letting a little of that personality from our first meeting out again. Still though, she took my arm and rose.

"Do me a favor, look through these monitors and see what the City was up against. Perhaps these missiles could be used against the Darkness. Let me know what you find," I spoke as my head turned to survey the room.

"Got it," she said, and turned to one of the few active terminals.

The room was dual-level, with slightly raised rows along the sides that housed several computers, with more in rows in the lowered central area. On the far wall, in a sort of command position, were several monitors, all offline. I looked down the weapon the woman used, picked it up, and began to inspect it.

"You're lucky that I tackled you when I did; this would've made a pretty nasty mark. Even the City stopped using eight gauge rounds a long time ago."

"Why'd they stop?"

"Because novice guardians were getting knocked off their feet."

"Sounds reasonable, consid…Wyatt. You need to see this."

I set the weapon down and stepped over to her, suddenly curious. However, Annabelle was too absorbed in the screen for me to look. She began to read aloud.

"Showing diagnostics for all silos. Silo 1: Empty. Silo 2: Empty. Silo 3: Empty. Silo 4: Empty. The missiles are gone, Wyatt. They've been gone for years. I…I can't…all those people…"

She stormed off towards the elevators, and I looked at the screen to determine for myself. She was right. I only turned away from the screen when I heard the elevator screech to life and begin moving upwards.

"Annabelle!" I cried, and started running. Checking all the other elevators, finally one opened to my touch, and I climbed inside, and sent it to the surface. It was all I could do during that slow, monotonous climb to avoid attempting to break out the box and start climbing myself. I had to get to Annabelle to keep her from doing something we'd both regret.

Finally, the elevator creaked to the surface, and I ran. I ran harder than I've ever had to, and still, by the time I finally caught sight of her, she was past the outer watchtower of the facility, and running across the plateau. I hopped the wall and kept running, but even from this distance, in the low light, I could see that she was approaching a ledge of some sort. Systems over-clocked and still overworked, I ran until I saw that she had fallen to her knees near the ledge. I got to within fifty feet before I slowed to a walk. Rather than giving a gently resistance to me, the grasses seemed to part before my boots in the midnight wind, and between its gusts, I could hear her sobs once I was close.

I fell to my knees as well, though from exhaustion rather than emotion, and held her. Her small frame fit easily in my grasp, and she shifted to let herself lie in my grasp, now sobbing into my shoulder.

"I can't…I can't do this, Wyatt. Just…Just let me go. Let me fall."

"You know I can't do that. You know I won't."

"Please, Wyatt, I can still see them. They did nothing to deserve what we did to them."

"Remember when you first saw me? Then, I wanted to let go. I wanted to fall. You wouldn't let me. Now, I won't let you. Come on. We can bed down for the rest of night, and then we'll go talk to Cayde. We'll fix this." I lifted her across my arms, her head still buried in my shoulder.

"When has talking ever fixed anything?"

* * *

I carried her over to a small hill in the terrain, set her down, and once a small fire had been set, lied next to her.

"I don't know what to do with myself anymore, Wyatt."

"We're going to make things right. I promise you, Anna."

That night, she fell asleep in my arms.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Our story is nearing a close. The only regret I have is that I wish I had written it better. Overall though, I'll be glad to have it done. It'll be nice to not have to force myself to write every night so that there'd be a chapter for the next day, even though I didn't always manage that. Maybe in the future, I'll do one that updates less often with somewhere like 5,000 - 10,000 words per chapter. The trouble with that is that you have to have an overarching goal, and it can be difficult to keep making progress to that goal while also ensuring that you don't run out of content._

 _If you're liking this, please feel free to let me know. If you want to help me improve, then tell me how I can. It's not going to get better unless you tell me how you want it to. I'm not a warlock. I can't read minds._


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten – Showdown

By the time the sun woke me, Anna had left my side. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the disheartened embers left behind from the pitiful fire of last night. I rose and stood next to her, offering my hand. She took it daintily.

"Let's go."

She didn't respond, only kicked dirt onto the makeshift fire pit, and started walking away.

"Ghost, get us our ships."

* * *

The flight back to the Tower was slow, quiet, and because of that, agonizing. I could barely get more than a few words out of Annabelle, and Ghost was not providing spectacular advice.

"Confess your undying love," he suggested.

"If you were to somehow end up a victim of accidental friendly fire, would I be issued another Ghost?" I responded spryly.

"You would never get one nearly as smooth with the ladies as I."

"So that's why her Ghost has been avoiding you."

"No comment."

* * *

Once we were finally allowed to enter the Tower's hangar, after being accosted by the various security frames that sought to confirm that we were not, in fact, Fallen terrorists, I spoke to one of the courtesy frames.

"I need to speak to Cayde-6."

The machine locked to attention, head tilted slightly upward, invisible bits of code running through its robotic mind at speeds most biological creatures could never understand, before it returned to a more natural pose and its imitation gaze once more locked onto me.

"Master Cayde has asked not to be disturbed for any reasons except those of catastrophic importance."

"This is one of those times."

"Please report situation to Security Office. Resuming patrol."

I grabbed the frame by the shoulder and sighed, eliciting a "Please release me." from the machine before I spoke again: "Security Override: Code 1C 3C R34 M"

The machine stuttered for a second as it worked its way through the brute force of its protocol, then vocalized: "Master Cayde has been alerted to an impending visitor. Have a nice day."

"Thanks, bot." I said as I nodded to Anna and we began to walk towards the main plaza.

She was still a little taken aback by the display, but managed to keep up with my stride and asked, "How did you know how to do that?"

"You wouldn't understand. You're…a _biotic_." I rolled the last word off my "tongue" like it disgusted me to say it, and it had my intended effect: Anna scoffed and refused to look at me, even as we entered the complex and approached Cayde's door. Before we entered, I turned to Annabelle.

"Listen, all jokes aside. This is serious. Please, for both our sakes, don't do something we'll regret."

"And I so desperately wanted to be bad cop, too."

"Funny," I said as I turned open the door.

The room was not unlike it had been when I had last entered, though it seems that in both situations, one of the people I shared it with was a rather uncomfortable ally. Cayde once more sat at his desk, though this time he had propped his feet up and was scrolling through a tablet's information. As we entered, he rose to his feet.

"Ah, I see you're still alive. See, the thing about your assignment was, you weren't supposed to keep returning to the Tower. Remember that whole thing about how I told you we couldn't look like we were mobilizing?"

"Yeah, Cayde, the thing is, I don't think you sent us after a revived military installation. You sent us after an aspiring colony, full of innocents."

"Innocent people do tend to favor locations with large amounts of military weaponry, don't they?"

Annabelle stepped up to my left from her location just inside the door, where she had stuck as soon as she caught sight of Cayde. It seems she hadn't completely overcome a fear of authority.

"Except there wasn't any weaponry to pose a threat to the City," she said. "There were no missiles, nothing. A few of the people there didn't even have weapons."

"It's likely that the Trinity Cult had the weapons stashed somewhere that a quick glance would not reveal."

"Cayde, those people, not cultists, people, were trying to start a settlement. There was nothing even mildly threatening about them. The few weapons they did have were there to fend off the Fallen you said weren't in the area."

"It's possible that the intelligence was wrong about that installation…"

I interrupted. "Cayde, I've been working with you for god knows how long. You've never been wrong. Never."

"I don't know what to tell you…"

"I know what you can tell us. Why? Why, Cayde? Why did you have us kill those people?" I couldn't feel it, but my rage was starting to boil, my tone was increasing.

I started walking towards him, and he backed away, towards the far wall.

"I didn't know…I…I swe-…"

I snapped. I forced him against the wall, my arms pinning his shoulders as he floundered six inches from the floor.

"WHY, Cayde, did you have INNOCENT PEOPLE KILLED?" my voice, now, was far too loud to be contained in that single room, I'm sure, and it couldn't have been long before someone came to investigate.

He struggled for another moment, then moved. His foot found purchase in my chest, and the next thing I remembered, I had made a vaguely Exo-shaped indent in the now-shattered desk. Otherwise, I seemed to be fine, and I rose just as easily as I had that morning, just in time to see Cayde straighten his cloak.

"You always were too quick to temper, Wyatt. You want to know? Fine. It's because the Traveler needs them. We need them."

Anna spoke up, now. "Why?"

"The Traveler draws its energy from the people. Without the people, the Traveler dies. Without the Traveler's Light, the guardians lose their strength to fight, and the Darkness closes in. Here, in the City, we can keep the people safe. We can keep the Light safe. But when they leave, expose themselves to the dangers of the wild, there's no telling what will happen to them. And if people begin a mass exodus from the City, out into the wild, there's no telling how many will die before someone makes a foothold. The Light's strength is tenuous as it is. We can't let the people know how weak we really are. We're only barely fending off the Darkness. Too many of our strongest have fallen against foes we can't hope to take on. Do you know how many Guardians have willingly thrown themselves into Crota's hell, never to return? Too many. Not to mention those flown off in search of Osiris…"

"You said you had strike teams all over Earth with similar missions to our own? Those guardians, they're killing innocent people too? How many, Cayde? How many people have to die because you can't admit the truth of our weakness?"

"If the people know that those who left to start a new settlement fell to the wastes, then no one else will dare to try."

"That's…unspeakable…" Anna spoke again.

"I'm sorry, but this is your job."

"What? You mean, you expect us, you expect all Guardians, to continue this?"

"Of course."

Once again, my anger got the better of me. I drew my hand cannon, aimed at Cayde. "I'm sorry too, Cayde, but I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of being the City's pawn, their hitman. I want out."

Cayde's hands went for the sky in surrender, but his voice said otherwise. "You think it's that easy? You think you can just up and leave? Why do you think I'm still stuck here? You're part of the City now. We need you, and as you've just learned, the City doesn't react kindly when it loses the things it needs."

"I suppose I could start with you. See how the City reacts to losing its hunter Vanguard."

"You wouldn't do that, Wyatt. I've known you too long. You're a good bluff, but when you do it too often, the effect wears thin."

"What makes you think I'm bluffing?" I pulled on the trigger.

Just as Cayde said, I was too quick to temper. Cayde was quick too, but in a different way. He sidestepped the shot, quicker than I had ever seen someone, or something, move. Before I knew it, his hand was on the barrel, and though I held hard, a plasteel-reinforced elbow knocked me to the ground once more. It was then, lying on the cold concrete, staring up at Cayde, dazed, that I watched him aim the cannon at Annabelle. The crashing in my head muffled every sound around me, but between pumps of coolant in my system, I heard clear as day when my weapon put a hole in her chest. I heard the thump of her body as it fell to the floor. I heard her last muffled gasps for breath, interrupted by spurts of blood.

* * *

I pulled up my chair and sat down again, this time, without a desk up which to set my feet. Wyatt was still lying on the ground, head crooked to stare are the novice's corpse. A shame, really, but the loss of her was a small price to pay in order to keep Wyatt's skills. He was, truly, one of the greatest assets the Tower had, if unreliable at times. Still though, he would recover. Wyatt is a tough sonuvabitch.

"Now, Wyatt. Since that business is over with, we can…renegotiate."

Wyatt was attempting to crawl over to her, though it was more of a stagger, if that is possible while prone.

"Since you seem to be in somewhat of a less advantageous position now, I believe you'll find my terms much more acceptable."

Wyatt had finally reached the hunter's body. He moved his left arm to support her head and his right to caress her cheek. God, he really fell for her. I didn't think it would be so easy, especially after his last companion.

"Why don't you get up so we can discuss like civilized people? After all, we're supposed to be setting an example."

* * *

I couldn't believe it. She was dead. Again, another one of my friends fall. Again, I am left standing to watch it happen. Again, I cannot truly fathom the flustering tsunami of emotions flowing through every part of my body. However, I could think, and one thing settled in my head: "It's my turn."

I moved my hand down her thigh until I found her holster, and drew the sidearm. Effortlessly, silently, it fitted into my hand, and the barrel fitted to my head. It almost felt like the trigger pulled itself.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Not all stories have happy endings._


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven – Hell to Pay

"Is he still going to be alright after this? That round did number on his system."

"Of course. All he's going to remember is that his memory's been wiped once again."

"Alright, if you say so."

"One more thing, Banshee. This time, get rid of the girl. Both of them. You missed that memory last time."


End file.
